


Can't Go Back To Yesterday

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Trauma, F/M, the wizarding world post-1998 is full of child soldiers and traumatised Muggleborns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:39:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 2002, a Muggleborn breaks her self-imposed exile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Go Back To Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irnan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irnan/gifts).



> Inspired by irnan.

Audrey stared at the troll currently laying waste to the light, airy lobby of Deloitte's - which was a lot lighter and airier with that massive hole in the glass wall - and decided that it would be prudent to take a step back. Maybe two. The Aurors seemed to have the situation well in hand, but her wand was in pieces in her safe at home, and she wasn't even sure if she could produce a respectable Shield Charm after six years out of the wizarding world. The rape alarm in her bag, Audrey suspected, would have no noticeable effect on a troll. The amusing cat-shaped knuckleduster keyring was also unlikely to be of any use.

 

"Excuse me, miss," said a wizard - wearing a pinstriped Muggle suit, not an Auror's uniform, but the wand tightly clasped in his hand and the curse scar across his palm as he put it on her shoulder were dead giveaways - "perhaps you should step back? We're trying to clear the area. The police have Mr Terry well under control, but it would be better if he could be returned to prison without injuring anyone else."

 

Audrey turned a blank stare on him. He had red hair, a thin, slightly querulous face and glasses. "You mean Aurors and troll."

 

His face changed, and Audrey could see the _Obliviate_ lining up on his tongue as he lifted his wand.

 

"No, it's all right," she said quickly, raising her hands. "My name's Audrey Li." She hesitated - the words felt strange on her tongue. "Hufflepuff class of 1996."

 

            His face relaxed, and he lowered his wand. “Percy Weasley,” he said, “currently attached to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Where’s your wand, Miss Li?”

 

            “Ms,” Audrey said firmly, and was gratified when he apologised. “I haven’t got a wand. Or at least I have, but it’s in bits.”

 

            Percy looked surprised. “Really? Why?”

 

            “I snapped it,” Audrey informed him, putting as much _that’s enough questions, thanks ever so_ into her tone as possible. “Aren’t you going to do something about the troll?”

 

            “He’s a minor problem,” Percy said dismissively. “I was more worried about his handler. Gone rogue, you know. Very sad. He’s in Caledonia Yard already, we just need to- oh, _really_ -”

 

            He put up a seamless Shield Charm, and Audrey flinched as a coffee table flew across the lobby and bounced off it.

 

            “-tie up a few loose ends,” he finished, not noticeably flustered. “Can I help you, Ms Li?”

 

            “Yes,” Audrey said, making a split-second decision. “You can take me out for coffee. For the shock, you know.”

 

            Percy blinked at her owlishly from behind his glasses – he looked sort of nineteen-thirties with those round frames and that strictly side-parted, wavy hair, Audrey thought, but Muggle wire-rimmed ones would suit him so much better, and she’d love to see his hair a little messed up. “I can?”

 

            “Absolutely,” Audrey said, and smiled at him. “It’s not every day a dashing gentleman in a pin-striped suit rescues me from a troll.” 

 

            Thank god, he smiled back. “I suppose not.”

 

            There was a loud thump behind them, and they both looked round. The troll was flat on its back on the floor, Aurors swarming round it.

 

            Percy turned back to Audrey. “My schedule has just opened up for the rest of the afternoon.”

 

            “I’ll meet you outside in ten,” Audrey said, and went to tell her boss that she’d been traumatised by the escaped convict in the lobby, and also the police wanted to interview her about what she’d seen. It was possible, Audrey informed Eric Keats, that she would need to give a statement.

 

            Eric Keats was very fond of true crime. He let her go.

 

 

            Percy was waiting for her just outside; the Aurors had cleaned up and gone in record time, and now the Obliviators were doing their work, calmly and cheerfully feeding people cups of soothing tea and Confunding them so that they believed they had seen the City of London police recapture a desperate criminal wreaking havoc on a City law firm. Audrey walked straight past them, grateful that he had stayed after all. She hadn’t been quite sure what to do if he’d decided that being asked out to coffee by a deranged witch manqué didn’t feature on the to-do list of Percy Weasley, Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Apparated back to the office.

 

            Audrey took him to Starbucks, because he told her he wasn’t very familiar with Muggle London, and laughed at his expression when he caught sight of the drinks board. “I know it’s no Fortescue’s,” she began, and stopped, an odd feeling in her throat. She’d loved Fortescue’s; had studied for her OWLs and her NEWTs there in the Easter holidays, weather and Death Eaters allowing, tucked into a corner with an ice-cream and her notes. Her _Daily Prophet_ subscription had ended the day Florean Fortescue’s disappearance was front-page news, which she had taken as a sign.

 

            “No,” Percy conceded, looking at her with mild concern. “Are you all right, Ms Li?”

 

            “Call me Audrey,” Audrey said, dredging up an unconvincing smile. “I’m fine. How do you like your coffee?”

 

            “Black,” Percy said unhesitatingly, “lots of it.”

 

            “The Ministry working you hard?” Audrey teased, and ordered a grande Americano to go with her skinny latte, both of which she paid for before Percy could notice they didn’t take sickles and knuts and try to transfigure his wizarding money into Muggle cash. “No, it’s on me, Percy, it was my idea.”

 

            “All right,” he conceded. “And not really, not compared to just after... all that fuss and bother with the insurgents. I’m just addicted, always have been.”

 

            Audrey spared a millisecond to admire anyone who could refer to Voldemort as _all that fuss and bother_ with a straight face, and escorted Percy to a small corner table. He pulled out her chair for her courteously, then cast a small spell.

 

            “In case of eavesdroppers,” he explained when she raised an eyebrow at him. “It would be embarrassing if I broke the International Statute of Secrecy.”

 

            “Oh, that,” Audrey said, and thought to herself that her words were a very inadequate way to describe something that had made her life a complete nightmare for the past decade and a half.

 

            “Yes.” Percy cleared his throat. “I believe in the letter of the law.”

 

            “So do I,” Audrey said, “but speaking as a Muggleborn, it’s a nightmare.”

 

            There was a small, awkward pause.

 

            “So,” Audrey said, desperately trying to break it. “What do you do?”

 

            “I’m – well, a civil servant, I suppose,” Percy said slowly. “I’ve done a lot of things. Before the war it was a case of climbing the ladder, and after, really, it was a case of doing what needed to be done when it needed to be done. Very much a case of all hands on deck. I suppose you’ll know what a terrible state –”

 

            “Not really,” Audrey interrupted. “I went into hiding in ’96.”

 

            Percy gave her a rather startled look.

 

            “The final straw was the anonymous letters,” Audrey said, too breezily. “Mudblood spawn, we’re onto you. That sort of thing. You were talking about your job?” The relief of being able to talk to someone else with magic about what had happened had drawn all the sting from that miserable couple of years, although the effect was no doubt temporary, and she would go back to twitching every time someone referred to something that had taken place between 1996 and 1998. Her colleagues were under the impression that she had had an abusive boyfriend, which considering the way the wizarding world had put magic and wonder at her fingertips and then crushed her into the floor wasn’t such a bad guess.

 

            Percy had actually flinched, but he recovered himsef. “Yes. Er, I work for the Internal Affairs Bureau; we’re a subset of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but we’re answerable to the Minister and the Wizengamot only. We deal with... internal complaints. During the war, a lot of people with – unacceptable attitudes – got a foot in the door, and you can’t throw them out on their ear without proof, it’s not-”

 

            “-due process,” Audrey said, and blushed slightly. “I know what you mean.”

 

            “- yes, exactly.” He blushed as well, but smiled. “So we gather the evidence, find the proof, bring it before the Wizengamot’s special tribunal. We were responsible for Dolores Umbridge _finally_ being fired in ’99, if you remember her. We conclusively disproved her claims that she’d been coerced, Confunded and Imperiused into acting as she did. A lot of our evidence actually went to put her in jail, too, on charges of profiting from the Muggleborn witches and wizards whose assets in Gringotts she seized – oh Merlin, I’m sorry, are you all right?”

 

            Audrey looked down at her coffee; she’d spilt it over both her hands and caught the cuffs of her shirt. “Fine,” she said, and fished a tissue out of her bag to blot the stains.

 

            The letter from Gringotts, dated September 1997, was still in the bottom of her safe, in a box file taped shut with her wand’s fragments and her slim collection of wizarding legal documents, the ones she’d been too sensible to get rid of: her OWL and NEWT certificates, her Apparation licence. The thick parchment had burnt her fingers, and her hands had shaken as she read it. No-one should find out from their bank manager that they are no longer considered a person.

 

            “I’m sorry,” Percy said.

 

            “No, it’s all right,” Audrey said automatically. “So what has an escaped troll got to do with the Internal Affairs Bureau?”

 

            “Generally speaking,” Percy said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sounding very officious, “nothing. But when a nasty old bigot who’s been parked somewhere at the back of the Department for Magical Creatures for fifty years takes offence to being fired for persecuting his secretary, quite a lot.”

 

            Audrey bit her tongue to stop herself giggling. As deadpan delivery went, it wasn’t that bad. “So... full of danger and derring-do, the Internal Affairs Bureau.”

 

            “Absolutely,” Percy said solemnly, and toasted her with his coffee-cup. “Especially when we run out of caffeine.”

 

            She actually did laugh, this time. 

 

***

 

            That evening, Audrey sat on the floor of her bedroom and opened the safe in the bottom of her wardrobe and picked up the taped-shut box-file. As she moved it, she could hear the pieces of her wand rolling around inside, trapped and useless.

 

            She was safe, Audrey thought. Safer than she’d been for years. She had a job, a good job, one that paid well. A Muggle job and a Muggle life. The worst thing she had to worry about was being mugged, and after the possibility of being hunted down and murdered along with all her family because she’d supposedly _stolen_ her magic, that was peanuts. Why would she ever go back to a world that had made it abundantly clear to her that she wasn’t wanted?

 

            _But_.

 

             Audrey closed her eyes. She’d taken the name-tapes out of her school robes and posted them to Madam Pomfrey, marking them firmly for the second-hand uniform fund. She’d sold her cauldron, her textbooks, her dragon-hide gloves, all her school supplies. She’d never had an owl. She’d sold, lost, or given away almost everything that could possibly remind her of the world she’d left behind. Letters from her friends had been burnt unopened; a single Howler had been the victim of the best Freezing Charm Audrey had ever cast, and was probably still languishing at the bottom of the village pond she’d thrown it into.

 

            Because Hogwarts had been wonderful, and magic could be beautiful, but Audrey had wanted to _live_ , and no student Professor Lupin had kindly told that Stunners would ‘just come to her’, provided she kept practising diligently and concentrated very hard, stood a chance in any war.

 

            Audrey’s fingers itched and her right hand curved around an empty space (ten inches, ash, dragon heartstring).

 

            “It’s a bit of _wood_ ,” Audrey said aloud, “it can’t _hurt_ me,” and sliced open the box file with a kitchen knife. She plucked the pieces of wand out of the box as if they were red hot, and dropped them into her handbag, where they disappeared into the primordial sludge of tissues, used-up biros, old chap-sticks and throat-sweets at the very bottom.

 

            Audrey tried extremely hard to forget all about it.

 

***

           

            “Oh bloody _bloody_ hell,” Audrey groused, frantically searching for her phone, which was playing a merry tune somewhere in her handbag. She stepped out of the main stream of commuters on the pavement, propped her bag between her hip and the wall, and plunged her arm in right up to the elbow, because it had to be in there s-

 

            “ _Fuck_!”

 

            “Audrey, are you okay?” Lisa from Human Resources said, appearing as suddenly as if she’d Apparated beside her elbow.

 

            “Fine, just – seriously, _ow_.” Audrey gave up on her phone, which had stopped ringing in any case – probably her father, a naturally nervous man who hadn’t been improved by the advent of the Second Wizarding War and a lot of threatening anonymous letters addressed to his precious girl – and withdrew her hand. There was a large splinter trapped under the skin of her finger, a bead of blood teetering on its edge.

 

            A splinter, unless Audrey was very much mistaken, from a wand. Made of ash.

 

            She swore again.

 

            Lisa patted her shoulder sympathetically, probably storing it all up to tell the others. Audrey losing her cool was an event. “That’s nasty.”

 

            Audrey harrumphed, glowering at her finger. “I’m sure it’ll only take a few minutes to get it out.”

 

***

 

            It took half an hour.

 

            Audrey packed away her sewing kit, returned the lighter to Yvonne, a chain-smoking and motherly legal secretary in her fifties, and simmered through four hours of work before she could decently leave for her lunch-break.       

 

            She bought herself a sandwich, visited an ATM, and caught a bus to Charing Cross Road.

 

            The wand fragments, she threw into the Thames.

 

***

 

            Audrey stared at the brick wall behind the Leaky Cauldron and realised that she hadn’t quite thought this through.

 

            “Is there a problem?” a woman said rather acidly, and Audrey jumped and turned round. The woman was about the same age as Yvonne, but taller and lovelier; in fact, she was beautiful, with long soft grey hair in an elegant chignon, a finely carved straight nose, an intimidating elegance in her dress and manner, and dark eyes. She also had a wriggling toddler perched on her hip, which probably had something to do with her impatience. Especially because the toddler’s hair kept changing colour.

           

            “I snapped my wand,” Audrey said apologetically. “And I can’t... get in.”

 

            The woman’s face softened slightly as she took in Audrey’s age and her Muggle dress. “I take it it’s your first visit to Diagon Alley in a while.”

 

            “Six years.”

 

            The woman raised her eyebrows, but reached out and tapped the bricks with her wand. They stood and watched the archway form, then Audrey stepped back and let the woman and the boy through before following herself, tentatively.

 

            “Andromeda Tonks,” the woman said informatively, and Audrey blinked. Andromeda was giving her a hard stare, and had extended her free hand, the wand disappearing back up her sleeve. Audrey shook it awkwardly. “And this is Teddy, my grandson.”

 

            The small boy waved a sticky hand and rested his head against his grandmother’s shoulder. “I’m four,” he said, with the air of someone imparting a state secret.

 

            “Audrey Li,” Audrey said, shaking hands. “I’m twenty-four. Pleased to meet you, thanks for the help with the wall.”

 

            “You’re welcome, Miss Li,” Andromeda said gracefully.

 

            Audrey bit her tongue on a reproving _Ms, thanks_ \- she didn’t think it would go down well with Andromeda – and nodded, smiling awkwardly.

 

            Andromeda turned away, and disappeared into the crowd. Audrey stood still for a few moments, taking it all in.

 

            Diagon Alley had changed since she’d last seen it. The atmosphere of threat had dissipated; there were new, shiny shop-fronts, and the streets were clean and full of chattering families. A couple of Aurors patrolled, on the beat and deceptively relaxed, but there was nothing for them to do. Audrey could see the striped awning that marked Fortescue’s, even from this far down the street, and the bright purple walls and dimly heard explosions that signified that Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes had survived the war intact.

 

            Audrey headed straight for Gringotts and the money-changing desk. It wasn’t very active at the moment and the queue was short; still, she was stuck behind a Frenchwoman gossipping with the goblin behind the counter, a small, strawberry-blonde child clinging to her leg and staring wide-eyed up at Audrey. Audrey waved, and the child waved back, then stuck her thumb in her mouth.

 

            Eventually, the Frenchwoman moved on, and Audrey successfully changed £100 into twenty Galleons, a massive sum that ended up being shovelled into her bag because she could only get five or six of the gold coins into a purse designed for credit cards and notes.

 

            “Have you got an account, Ms Li?”

 

            “Er - no,” Audrey said, caught off guard and feeling distinctly nervous and nauseous the longer she spent in the building. Her hands were cold, clammy and shaking; her knees felt like they might give way. “It was seized during the war.”

 

            The goblin didn’t betray an expression. “Did you keep the key?”

 

            “No. I thought someone might be able to track it.” The key had gone into the Severn, just before they’d left for a family holiday. Audrey was beginning to sense a pattern in her wizarding waste disposal choices.

 

            “A sensible precaution,” the goblin said, in a tone that made Audrey thank any deities listening for the Data Protection Act. “Would you care to open another?”

 

            “Not. Um, not right now,” Audrey muttered, trying not to look at the horribly familiar Gringotts logo behind the goblin’s head, and backed out of the queue as quickly as she could.

 

            _Dear Ms Li, We are writing to inform you that your account has been seized, pursuant to clause twenty-two of the 1997 Theft of Magical Substance Act. The aforesaid Act states that the financial assets of any individual who is known to have acquired their magic through coercion or fraudulent practices are the rightful property of the Ministry of Magic; therefore..._

 

            She stumbled out into the sunshine and sat down hard on the marble steps, where she put her head between her knees and listened to the wind rush inside her skull.

 

***

 

            Ollivander’s had changed, in a sense; it was short several layers of dust that had been there when Audrey had last seen it, although that had been a good fifteen years ago. Ollivander himself didn’t look much different; an extra wrinkle or two, perhaps, maybe he was thinner.

 

            He looked up, and gave her the moonstone-eyed stare Audrey remembered from her first trip.

 

            “I need a new wand,” Audrey said firmly, unwilling to allow the wizarding world to overset her more than it already had done.

 

            “Ash and dragon heart-string, ten inches... pliable,” Ollivander mused, apparently having placed her to his satisfaction. “Sold in... yes: 1989.”

 

            “It broke,” Audrey said frostily.

 

            “It broke,” Ollivander repeated.

 

            “I snapped it.”

 

            Ollivander gave her the rather cold look of an offended craftsman.

 

            “Six years ago,” Audrey said meaningfully, digging her heels in. “During _the war_.”

 

            “Hmm,” Ollivander said, and pulled a few boxes down from the dusty shelves. “Try this. Holly and unicorn hair, eleven inches...”

 

***

 

            Half an hour later, feeling somewhat battered, Audrey staggered out of Ollivander’s ten galleons lighter and in a state of mild shell-shock, the proud owner of a new wand (oak and unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches, rather rigid, according to Ollivander) and a singed smart jacket. Since it just wasn’t Audrey’s day, and she was destined to lose control spectacularly in front of people she wanted to like her, she walked straight into a tall, lanky figure with red hair and round glasses.

 

            “Audrey?” Percy said in surprise, and caught her. “Is something the matter?”

 

            “No, of course not,” Audrey lied, disengaging herself with alacrity. (He had strong hands, she noticed.)

 

            “I only ask because you’re... a trifle dishevelled.” Percy blushed. “And besides – I don’t know if you’re aware, there is, perhaps, the odd... scorch mark...”

 

            “I’m having a very interesting day,” Audrey said wearily. She took her new wand out of its box, and waved it around a bit. Purple sparks shot out of the end, and Percy leapt backwards. “New wand. I didn’t mean to cast an Incendio, it just sort of...”

 

            “... happened?” Percy guessed.

 

            “Yes.” Audrey put the wand away, tucked the wisps of hair that had escaped a previously highly professional chignon behind her ears, and straightened her dress and jacket. “And I visited Gringotts. I have nothing against goblins, but Gringotts disagrees with me. What are _you_ doing here?”

 

            “Visiting my brother.” Percy checked his watch, a large and impressive specimen with several dials. “I was just about to head back to the Ministry, actually.”

 

             Audrey checked her own watch and started. “Oh, _God_!”

 

            Percy looked confused.

 

            “I’m going to be _late back_ ,” Audrey said despairingly, burying her head in her hands and feeling as if she was going to cry, a situation not remotely improved by the dim awareness that she was being pathetic in front of someone she fancied. “I’m sorry, Percy, ignore me. I’ve just – had a _lousy_ day.”

 

Percy steered her out of the way of a small family and sat her down on a chair, belonging to a café that hadn’t been there when Audrey had last visited. “What happened?”

 

“Oh, you don’t want to know,” Audrey deflected automatically, but he just stood there and looked patient and listening and utterly trustworthy, and she sighed and carried on. “My old wand gave me a bloody great splinter, and work was – work was _awful_ , and I had to go to Gringotts and change money and I practically had a panic attack on the steps, and some lady and her grandson had to help me get into Diagon Alley, and now I can’t even be _punctual_!” 

 

             “Audrey,” Percy said gently, a look of faint alarm in his eyes, as if handling a skittish horse. “You’re – um. You’re a _witch_ , Audrey. You can Apparate.”

 

            “I haven’t even tried for years,” Audrey said gloomily, forcibly calming herself down with the willpower of someone who kept up with over-educated lawyers for a living, retrieving a tissue from her handbag and blowing her nose defiantly. “I’ll Splinch myself. And besides, it makes me sick.”

 

            Percy cleared his throat. “Well, as a public servant, it is obviously my duty to, er, assist. The public. I would naturally be prepared to do so. If asked.”

 

            Audrey blinked at him for a long moment, and wondered if her eyeliner had gone south. The crusty feeling around her eyes strongly suggested that this was the case. “Percy, I’m not at my best right now, and it’s possible I’m a bit slow. Did you just offer to help me get back to work?”

 

            “Well.” Percy straightened his shoulders and peered hopefully down at her. “I could. If you liked.”

 

            “Believe me, Percy, I would be absolutely _delighted_.”

 

            “Well.” Percy beamed, and offered her an arm. She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and turned on the spot.

 

            Audrey had passed her Apparition test, but she’d thrown up immediately afterwards. Apparating still made her feel like her stomach had been turned inside out, but at least this time she could trip and stumble against Percy, who wasn’t going to drop her by accident or push her away on purpose.

 

            And she didn’t care what Lisa from Human Resources said about playing hard to get. Asking him out to dinner on Friday night to say thank you was _completely_ reasonable.


End file.
